Just Like an Angel
by OceanWolfff
Summary: Sharing his music with the world was all he ever wanted. But everything changed when he met the most beautiful girl. He has music gigs that could lead a pathway to a bright future, but his heart is set on making her his. But when the time comes, he must make a choice: will it be Love? Or his Career?
1. Mamá está enfermo

**Oh, I wonder who just joined the Coco fandom? Oh, it's me, LandraWolf. Um, yes, of course. You know me. I LOVE Disney and Pixar movies.**

 **Anyways, I really hope you enjoy :)))**

 **Read, Review, and Enjoy!**

 _ **Chapter Uno-**_

 _Mamá está enfermo_

"IMELDA GOMEZ!"

The young maiden nearly dropped the plate she was washing as she heard her mother holler out her name from across the house. She gently laid the newly cleaned plate on top of the stack of other clean plates before untying her apron and hanging it up on the apron hook in her kitchen. She quickly trotted up the stairs and into her mother's room where her mother lied sick in bed. A cluttered tray sat next to her on her bed with a bowl of half eaten oatmeal and a tortilla de patatas with only a few bites taken out of it.

"You called me, Mamá?" Imelda asked, standing in the doorway of her mother's room. Imelda's mother gave her a look and wiggled her finger for her to come closer towards her. Imelda obeyed immediately, knowing better not to wait a few seconds, because even stalling for that short period of time ticked her mother off.

"Buenos tardes," Imelda spoke as she walked closer to her mother's bed. "¿Como te sientes hoy?"

"Not much better, I'm afraid," her mother responded, her voice grim and hoarse. Imelda stepped forwards and placed her hand on her mother's forehead to feel her temperature. She was warm. Possibly even warmer than yesterday.

"Ay, mamá. Tienes muy calor. This is not good."

"Oh, I feel fine, I feel fine!" Her mother snapped, smacking Imelda's hand away. "Now, I asked you up here to do me a favor."

"Sì Mamá."

" _Primero_ , I want you to make me some lunch. Make me some..."

"But Mamá, you still have your tortilla-"

"¡Silencioso!" Her mother cut in. Imelda bit back her tongue and then chewed on her lip. She knew better than to interrupt her mother, especially when she was sick.

"That tortilla de patatas is old and stale from this morning. If I'm sick, then I should have something fresh to eat, _entiendes_?"

"Sì Mamá," Imelda spoke as she nodded her head vigorously.

"Well, don't just stand there like a fool, _mija_. Go and make me something that will help me feel better. And don't forget to make lunch for your brothers _tambien_. They've been working in the fields all day. They must be starving."

"Sì Mamá. Is that all?"

"Yes, Imelda. Ahora, vas."

Imelda picked up the tray on her mother's bed before leaving the room and returning to the kitchen.

"Ay, ay, ay," Imelda complained. "Why must the place of una chica be in la _cocina_?"

Imelda grabbed out a loaf of bread and began to cut it into slices while she mumbled to herself.

"I want to do much more with my life instead of spending it in a kitchen and raising kids in a house while my future husband will be out working all day and later spend his night drinking in a bar."

Imelda snatched the tomatoes from the window sill aggressively and cut those into slices.

"I want so much more than this simple, boring life." One tomato, done and cut into many slices. "Mamá raised me up to be a strong, independent woman. And I want to take that with me somewhere outside of the kitchen."

Imelda laid the tomato slices on the pieces of bread. She only prayed that the twins wouldn't mind having some chicken and tomato sandwiches 3 days in a row. It was just a simple, quick lunch she threw together every once in a while, and with her mamá sick, she didn't have time to cook them a whole feasty lunch.

When Imelda was finished making their lunch, she brought it out to them in the fields. They were working hard together, harvesting the vegetables. Imelda whistles to catch their attention. The twins, Felipe and Oscar, turned around and their faces lit up as they saw plates of food coming their way.

Imelda handed the hungry boys their food. They nearly snatched the plates out of her hands. She planted her hands on her hips and looked down at them.

"¡Gracias!" they managed to say before each taking a bite out of their sandwich.

"¡Muchachos!" Imelda scolded. They both looked up at their sister from where they were sitting on the ground. "You forgot to pray."

The boys quickly made the sign of the cross and said a quick prayer to God before digging into their sandwiches once again. Imelda snorted and shook her head.

"You boys are _cerdos,_ " Imelda grumbled. "Hasn't Mamá taught you how to eat properly?"

"Ay, leave us alone Imelda," Oscar responded. "Tenemos muy hambre, so will will eat however we want to. Even if we look like pigs."

Imelda rolled her eyes. "Whatever. Just put your plates back inside once you're done."

"Yes ma'am," Felipe responded. Imelda whirled around on her heel and headed back towards the _casa_. Once she was Inside, she made a small batch of tacos for her mother and brought them back up on the tray along with a fresh cup of water.

"Gracias, mija," her mother said as Imelda handed her the tray that held her lunch. "This looks muy delicioso."

"Sì Mamá. But eat all of your food this time, Por favor."

Her mamá gave Imelda a warning glare, but she didn't speak a word. She took a bite out of her taco as Imelda took a couple of steps back.

"Well, if you don't need me anymore, I'll just go and head back downstairs." Imelda slowly stepped away, but her mother gave her that one look that always told her there was still more left for her to do.

"Stop right where you are, señorita."

Imelda immediately halted and turned around to look at her mother.

"I need you to go to the market today. I wrote down a list of things while you were preparing my lunch. The list is on my nightstand."

Imelda shifted a couple of steps forwards and picked up the small piece of paper. She glanced at the list and nodded.

"Is this all that you need?" she wondered.

Her mother nodded.

"Then I guess that I'll be going," she sighed. Imelda turned around to leave the room yet again, but her mother's voice stopped her.

"Imelda, querido. If you, perhaps by chance, come across a nice, young gentleman..."

"No Mamá." Imelda turned around to face her mother and slashed her hand across her body in a "no way" motion. "I want nothing to do with men. I'm not interested in a man right now. Not any man. Even if he's the only exception."

And with those final words, Imelda left the room, closing the door behind her.

 **A/N: PLEASE READ—So I have awesome and big plans for this story. I PROMISE you that this won't be a basic HéctorxImelda love story, even if it seems like that at first. This story will be FILLED with emotion that you as a reader will feel. So PLEASE stick around and PLEASE review. And also, PLEASE tell other people about my story. I'm working really hard on this story so people will read it :)**

 **This was a pretty short chapter, but I'm sure you're getting where the direction of this story might be heading.**

 **Hope you sick around and enjoy!**


	2. Two Amigos Walk Into a Bar

**Hey guys! Here's chapter Dos!**

 **If you could please request my story to other Coco fans, then that'd be amazing! :) I'm not trying to get "fame" or anything, I just work hard on these stories and I'd appreciate if people would read my work :))) (If you shout out my stories in your story, then I can shout out your stories in my story. PM me if you're interested in doing that!)**

 **DISCLAIMER: I am not a heritage Spanish speaker. So if my Spanish isn't the best or if I'm not using the correct Spanish grammar, then I'm sorry. I'm trying!**

 **Also, I apologize for any typos that might pop up here and there.**

 **So anyways, Read, Review, and Enjoy!**

 _ **Chapter Dos-**_

 _Two Amigos Walk Into a Bar..._

They weren't quite a Mariachi band. More like...two old friends making beautiful music together. But not everybody enjoyed their music. They hadn't gotten anywhere with their music ever since they started playing in the Santa Cecilia Square. Sure, they got a few tips whenever they played and sometimes a few gigs at bars and restaurants, but they never left town, which was their big dream. Even though they were quite the duo, they never could find their ticket out of Santa Cecilia. Ernesto, with his loud and powerful and even sometimes touching voice, was quite the man. His voice could make people feel things they never thought music could make them feel. And his looks were almost better. He had that strong jawline with those perfect teeth. And he had what some might say we're the most beautiful eyes know to man. They seemed to sparkle and dance while he sang his heart out. He was kind and he definitely had a charming way with words. How many girls fell for him? No one could count. But Ernesto was never interested. He was only interested in traveling the world and getting out of town.

Héctor, on the other hand, was quite the opposite. He was a scrawny fellow with shaggy dark hair. His eyes were constantly full of curiosity and mischief. Although he didn't have a way with words, he did have a talent of cheesy pickup lines, but his lyrics were definitely beautiful and well thought. You never would have thought these words would come from this troublesome man. But Héctor's hopeless romantic side of him always came out whenever he was song writing.

"Ay, Héctor," Ernesto sighed, slumping down onto the stairs of the small stage that stood in the center of the plaza. "I don't know how much more of this I can take. I just want to get out of this horrid city, but we're getting no where! We work our _culos_ off all day and all we get is a pat on the back and maybe a bit of change from the pockets of people passing by."

"Ah, chin up, mi amigo." Héctor gently laid his guitar in its case and closed it up, clicking the locks together. "Things will get better. Our future is all in _las manos de Dio._ We have nothing to worry about. It may take time, but I'm sure we'll get there."

"Are you sure, amigo? We've been doing this for years now, it seems. Ever since we were, what? 13?" Ernesto asked.

Héctor looked up thoughtfully before opening his mouth to speak. "Actually, we were 12."

"That's even worse than 13. Do you see my point, amigo? We're never going to get big and famous."

"Relax, Ernesto. We were _twelve_. We were only just beginning to learn at that age. Now our head is more full with the knowledge of music. We just need to put our names out there, that's all."

"And how are we supposed to do that if we can't get out of this damned town?" Ernesto huffed.

"We'll find a way, mi amigo. We'll most certainly find a way."

Héctor gave Ernesto his signature, charming smile as he held out his hand towards Ernesto. He took Héctor's hand and was surprised that the scrawny man had the strength to pull him up to his feet.

"Now, vamanos. Let's go get a couple of drinks, eh?"

Ernesto sighed. "Oh, alright. But you're paying."

Héctor took off his straw hat and tipped it towards his best friend.

"It would be my pleasure, señor," Héctor spoke, giving him a wink.

"Oh, stop it," Ernesto chuckled. He pushed the guitarist away from him while the corners of his lips turned up into a smile.

"You always know how to make me smile, don't you mi amigo?" Ernesto said.

"Why, I've known you for so long. Of course I do. I've had the longest time to study you. We've practically been friends since birth!" Héctor replied. He placed his straw hat back on his head and tightened his grip on the handle of his guitar case. When it came to his best friend, he knew almost exactly every little thing about him. He knew all of Ernesto's secrets, along with every girl he had ever dated. He was there when Ernesto broke his arm by falling off his roof. He was the first person (who wasn't a family member) to see him cry. He supported this _hombre_ and even worked his butt off to help Ernesto raise money for him to get singing lessons when they were younger. He knew what made him angry and he knew how to cheer him up in an instant. He knew Ernesto could be a very impatient and anxious guy, but Héctor was optimistic and always found ways to calm his best friend down. Even though they were different (like how Ernesto was the logical, good kid and Héctor was always the kid doing stupid things and getting in trouble), they still clicked together. They were almost like magnets. Inseparable. And they hardly got in fights. It was rare for them, because they focused on raising each other up instead of bringing each other down.

"Muchacho, when we get rich and famous, I will buy you a new hat. A nice Mariachi hat, not like that shredded straw hat you're wearing now." Ernesto flicked the hat and gave a small chuckle, shaking his head.

"Aw, but I just happen to love this hat, Ernesto. It's so wonderfully made and it was very expensive!" The guitarist joked. Ernesto shook his head with disbelief, though a smile still remained on his face.

It was about 4:00 in the afternoon and the boys were done playing for the day. As they headed over to the bar that stood outside of the plaza, they waited for the rush and crowd of people shopping in the market. There were the same people nearly every day, mostly the young women Ernesto and Héctor's age. Most of the girls sighed at how _guapo_ Ernesto was and they gossiped among themselves. But the charming young man was so used to this, it was easy to ignore.

"Careful, muchacho," Héctor whispered over into Ernesto's ear. "That one group of girls is heading your way and it looks like nothing will stop them from reaching you."

"Should we run?" Ernesto whispered back. Héctor gave a solemn nod and at the same time, the two friends took off running in the opposite direction of the _chicas loco._ Ernesto ran almost as well as he sang. He looked like he was a trained marathon runner. It seemed as if he was perfect at everything that he did.

Meanwhile, Héctor ran like a limp noodle, his body practically taking control of him. He ran by the side of his amigo as the two of them tried to get lost in the crowd. Every once in a while, Ernesto would have vicious company like some love-crazy girls after him. They would do anything to just touch him. But it really made Ernesto very uncomfortable. He was afraid that they might climb all over him and hurt him. Or maybe they might try to tear off his clothes to keep as a possession or something. No, Ernesto wasn't famous. He was far from it. But he was a very handsome man and most of the girls his age knew of the great Ernesto and his looks that could kill.

"Did we lose them yet?" Ernesto hissed to Héctor. Héctor was almost too scared to look back, afraid that if he did, the crazy girls would be right on their tails.

But Héctor, being the good friend that he was, looked back behind them anyways.

"I think-I think they're g-"

And it was at that moment that Héctor felt the front part of his body ram into something. His head twisted back around as he tripped and tumbled to the ground. His guitar case went flying from his hand and it bounced on the ground, tumbling along with Héctor until he stopped. He was about to reach out to grab his guitar case until he saw what he had run into. _Who_ he had run into.

Héctor's eyes grew wide like golf balls. He tried to speak and apologize, but no words came out of his mouth. He gasped and coughed for a few moments until, _finally_ , he could spit out the words he needed to say.

"¡Lo siento, señorita!" Héctor exclaimed, scrambling to his feet. As he stood up, he held out his hand for the young chica. "Here, let me help you."

He was sweating like crazy, worried that this girl would slap him as soon as she was on her two feet.

But the girl didn't take Héctor's hand, nor did she look at him. She sat on the ground while rubbing her head and letting out a groan. Slowly, on her own, she got to her feet. It was then that she looked at the man in front of her. Her confused expression turned into an icy glare. Her brown eyes glowered with anger and even her hands set at her side were clenched into fists.

Héctor gulped, preparing for the smack of a life time. This woman was very angry. And Héctor had seen many angry woman in his life, but none of them looked as mad as this girl in front of him. She wasn't just angry. No. She was furious.

"Idiota!" The woman nearly screamed in his face. "Cabrón!"

"Ahora, señorita..." Héctor spoke calmly, slowly backing up away from the chica loco. He watched as she began to take off one of her shoes while hopping on her other foot for balance. Héctor gulped loudly, knowing all too well what was about to happen.

"You careless, idiotic, damn...CERDO!" She pulled off her shoe as she screamed the last word at him. Obviously this girl had a temper and Héctor did not want to get in her way. He knew he had to act. Fast. Without even thinking about it, Héctor dived for his guitar case. He rolled on the ground, scooped it up in his hand, and leapt to his feet, taking off and looking ahead of himself this time.

Héctor caught up with Ernesto in a matter of seconds. The man looked at his amigo by his side.

"Ay, what took you so long?" He wondered.

"I ran into some crazy muchacha who was about to give me the beating of a life time," the breathless Héctor explained. "But the girls-" he panted some more and slowed down to take in more gulps of breath. "The girls are gone."

Ernesto came to an abrupt stop. Both he and Héctor took in deep and shaky breaths, bending over with their hands on their knees. They had run as fast as they could for quite a few minutes by trying to lose the muchacho-crazy girls. It was a miracle that they even lost them.

"So, what about those drinks?" Ernesto panted, shifting his eyes over towards Héctor. Suddenly, Héctor bursted out laughing. His laugh was always very contagious to Ernesto, so of course his best friend joined in on the laughter. They laughed for a few seconds straight, picking their hunched over selves up. When they were done, Ernesto straightened out his clothes (because he was paranoid of his clothes looking crumpled, even though he had no girl to impress) and let out a content sigh.

"When was the last time I thanked you for being my friend?" Ernesto asked.

"Only about every other day," Héctor replied with a little half-grin. "But you do understand that sometimes it can be a lot of work to be your friend."

"I'm sure it is," Ernesto chuckled.

"You know, you should pay me for all this hard work," Héctor joked while jabbing Ernesto in the side with this elbow. Ernesto snorted.

"I think me singing your beautiful songs for you is as good of a payment for this friendship that you're going to get, eh amigo?"

Héctor let out a single "ha!" And shook his head. "You know very well I could do just fine without your _gorgeous_ voice," he replied, lifting his head high.

"Maybe," his friend replied while shrugging his shoulders. "But that'd leave you to be a lonely musician."

"Ah, maybe you're right." Héctor turned to face Ernesto. "Maybe I should find myself another singer to sing my songs so I won't be so lonely."

The look of shock that came across Ernesto's face caused Héctor to start laughing again.

"I'm just kidding, mi amigo! How could I ever replace you or do anything without you? You're my other half. I'd be lost without you."

"I'm glad to hear that. You had me worried for a second there," Ernesto sighed with relief. Then he whacked Héctor's hat off of his head. "But don't ever say something like that again. You're way to convincing."

Héctor smirked at his best friend as he placed his hat back on his head. "Of course, Ernesto. You're my best friend, and no one could ever replace my best friend."

"Ay, and same for you Héctor. I would do anything for you. I would move Heaven and Earth for you."

"That's kind of you, Ernesto de la Cruz. Very considerate. But have you thought what that might do to all of the nature and animals if you moved the earth? You could change this whole environment, and we wouldn't want that!"

"I was trying to have an intimate moment with you, Héctor. And you ruined it with a joke." Ernesto crossed his arms.

"I know, I know. Lo siento. I am grateful for your kind words." Héctor placed his hand on Ernesto's shoulder. "I'm very lucky to have you, Ernesto."

"And I you, Héctor."

They both smiled at each other and the guitarist patted the singer on the back.

"Good. Now, about those drinks..."

 **A/N: PLEASE READ—Soooooo...? How did you like this chapter? I'm sorry if it was a little short, but it was longer than the last (first) chapter.**

 **I hope you stick around because I have big plans for this story! This will not be a basic HéctorxImelda story, so please stick around and spread the word about my story! :D**

 **Please, please, please review! I feed off of reviews! They keep me going!**


	3. Mamá Bear

**A/N: Hey guys! Here is chapter 3! Don't forget to leave me a review when you're finished reading this chapter! Reviews** _ **really**_ **keep me going!**

 **Read, Review, and Enjoy!**

 _ **Chapter Tres**_

 _Mama Bear_

Imelda returned back to her _casa_ just in time to start _cena_. A basket hung in the crook of her arm that was full of groceries that she bought from the market. She dropped it down on the kitchen counter with a huff and a puff as she ran her hand through her hair. She felt a slight bump on her head. Probably from where that man ran into her. _Ugh, that idiota_ , she thought to herself. And because the kitchen was the place that she could run her mouth and rant to herself, that's exactly what she did.

"How could anyone be so careless?" She asked herself out loud, nearly yelling so it was audible to her mother who was up resting in her bedroom.

"I don't get it. Men nower days. They are either too...dignified. Or they're complete idiots who are so inconsiderate and never sincere."

While Imelda spoke to herself, she unloaded the basket full of food and put the items where they belonged.

"Santa Cecilia is just swarming with _loco_ young men." Imelda tossed two small tomatoes into a bowl by the kitchen window. She felt proud when they landed in there.

"I just...don't get it. Mamá is so angry at me for not already courting someone by now, but I have yet to meet a suitable suitor. I don't want to end up with some careless drunkard for a husband but I also don't want to end up with a noble man whose only use for me is a housewife for him who spends all day in the kitchen. I do enough of that with my family alone."

She put the loaves of _pan_ in the cupboard where they belonged and slammed the cupboard door shut. She felt her negative emotions filling up inside her and she felt as though she was about to burst.

"I'm just...so DONE!"

And that was it. She had bursted. And it felt pretty good, which caused a little smile to grow on Imelda's face. But the next words that she heard made her drop her smile instantly.

"Done with what, mija?"

Imelda almost gasped and her eyes grew wide as she whirled around, only to meet the eyes of her mother. She didn't know what to say. She was at a loss for words. The only thought she could think was " _how long was my mother standing there for?"_ Imelda bit her lip as she felt her body begin to sweat with nervousness.

"H-Hola Mamá." Imelda stumbled on her words. She continued to put the groceries away to make herself look busy so her mother wouldn't suspect much. "What are you doing out of bed? You're supposed to be resting."

"Nonsense. What is rest? I feel fine." her mother replied. She crossed her arms and eyed Imelda suspiciously. Imelda took one look at her mother and gulped. _Sì, Mamá definitely heard me_. The maiden tried to continue to play it cool, though, as she placed the basket down and carefully walked over to her mother.

"I don't believe that for a second," Imelda argued, placing her hand on her mother's forehead. But the old woman hit her hand away. Imelda pulled her hand back instantly and waved it in the air to lessen the stinging.

"Ay, Imelda, I feel fine!" Her mother sniffed. "Now, señorita, tell me what you were complaining about."

"W-what?" Even though Imelda knew the words were coming from

her mamá, she was still startled to hear them.

"What are you so _done_ with?" Her mother asked impatiently. Imelda noticed her mother tapping her foot on the ground repeatedly, which was something that she only did when she was anxious or irritated.

Imelda finally gave in. "I'm done with men," she sighed.

"Men?" Her mother repeated, uncrossing her arms.

"Sí, _men._ " Imelda threw her hands up in the air, clearly irritated. "They're so ignorant and stupid and...Mamá, do you know what just happened to me in the market today?"

Her mother shook her head, but a curious expression spread across her face. "No, quierdo. Tell me."

"Well, I was in the market place—thankfully I didn't purchase anything yet—when I noticed two men running. I didn't think any thing of it, but then, Mamá..."

"¿Sí? What happened?" Her mother urged her on, anxious to know what happened next.

"One of them ran right into me!" Imelda exclaimed. Her cheeks flushed red with anger while she recalled the memory. "He nearly knocked the breath of of my lungs as we both fell to the ground. I hit my head and now I've got this bump..."

Her mother almost lunged at her daughter like a mama bear would. "What? Let me see, Mija!"

Her mother tried to reach her head, but Imelda took a couple of steps back while she shook her head.

"No, no, I'm fine Mamá. It's only a small bump," Imelda explained.

Her mamá placed her hands on her hips and gave Imelda a stubborn look. "Small bump or not, Imelda. I want to take a look at it."

Imelda sighed and nodded. "Okay, Mamá."

Her mamá walked towards her once more—this time without Imelda stepping away—and ran her fingers through Imelda's hair until she found the small bump.

"Ay, Imelda, we need to do something about this. _Who_ did this to you?"

Imelda shrugged. "I don't know who it was. But...he had a guitar."

"Oh, so a Mariachi." Her mama's voice grew cold then.

"I assume so."

Her mamá pointed a threatening finger at her daughter. "I want you to stay away from Mariachis, Imelda."

"¿Por qué?" Imelda wondered. She noticed the change in tone her mother had when she mentioned that the man had a guitar. Obviously her mother had something against musicians.

"Why? They're nothing but trouble, my daughter. I don't want you running off with one and later getting your heart broken by him," her mamá responded.

Imelda let out a single laugh. "It's not like I'll go running off and falling in love with that man," Imelda said. "He's _loco_ , mamá. And clumsy. Who'd want a man like _that?_ "

While Imelda giggled at the thought, her mamá sighed.

"You never know who's crazy enough to fall for a man like that."

"Trust me mamá. I won't ever fall for a stupid musician. _Especially_ that man."

As Imelda walked away to finish putting the groceries away, her mamá shook her head and murmured to herself. "I hope you're right."

 **Okay, so this was a short chapter, and I planned on making it longer, but I do need to update for you guys, so I hope you enjoy.**

 **Please leave me a review. I would like to know what you think of my story, so let me know in a review :))**


	4. An Opportunity

**A/N: Glad you're enjoying my story so far! You guys have NO idea what I have in store for y'all, MUAHAHAHA. But please stick around! And let other people know about my story! :D**

 **ALSO Coco won Best Animated Featured Movie of the Year in the Golden Globe and I am beyond happy :D :D**

 **Read,** **Review** **, and Enjoy!**

 _ **Chapter Cuatro**_

 _An Opportunity_

The bar was a little crowded for the late afternoon, but Ernesto and Héctor still managed to find seats near the back of the building. Héctor was tempted to grab his guitar out of its case and play it while sitting in the small booth, but he knew that Ernesto wouldn't allow that and he would get a little...upset. They had just played and Ernesto probably wanted a bit of quality time with his friend. It was probably already enough that Héctor was scribbling in his small notebook which was filled with song writing.

Ernesto sighed as he swished his drink around in the small shot glass.

"Héctor, when will you stop writing in that book? What are you even writing?"

Héctor looked up from his writing and dropped his pencil in the crook of the red notebook. He gave Ernesto a small, half smile.

"Nothing. I was just jotting down some ideas, but if you want me to, I'll stop," Héctor replied.

"Please," came Ernesto's exhausted reply. "I thought you were done with music for just a little bit. We just got done playing for a whole hour in the plaza with no breaks and now you're back at it with song writing."

Ernesto placed his cup down. "Can't you just take a break for once, Héctor? You're constantly scribbling in your book or plucking at your guitar. Why can't we just talk for once? Like normal people? Like the friends that we are?"

Héctor's face looked a little shocked. He didn't realize that these thoughts were going through Ernesto's head. "I'm sorry, mi amigo. I had no idea this was troubling you."

"Si, its been troubling me for some time now. But I knew that you were on a roll those other times, so I didn't want to interrupt you. But today, I just wanted to chat a little bit, you know?"

Héctor felt a little guilty then. He didn't know how much he'd been blocking out his best friend. He was just...so excited when new ideas popped into his head. He _had_ to write them down; he couldn't forget these lyrics or tunes. They could become masterpieces one day. Somebody would appreciate these melodies, so he had to make sure they were written somewhere so that later he could go back and fix it up. But he realized that when he was with Ernesto, when he offered to pay for the drinks, his amigo wanted some quality time to joke around and act like actual friends. And Héctor hadn't been very good about that recently.

"Lo siento, mi amigo. I didn't even realize what I was doing." He gave a pitiful smile. "I guess I'm a pretty sorry excuse for a best friend."

Ernesto gave out a hearty laugh.

"It's no big trouble, Héctor. It's not like I cried myself to sleep every night over this."

"Are you sure? Because I'm pretty sure that I heard you sniffling a few nights ago," Héctor smirked.

"They were allergies," Ernesto sniffed, lifting his chin up high. "I was not crying. It didn't bother me that much."

"Ha! I won't fall for your excuses, Ernesto. I know you too well."

"Ugh, sometimes I regret becoming friends with you when I was a boy," Ernesto replied. Héctor let out a laugh, shaking his head as he recalled an old memory.

"But you _didn't_ become my friend. At least not for a while," he reminded him. Ernesto's eyes seemed to glow up at the reminder of the memory. A smile gradually grew on his face. He pointed his finger at Héctor and shook it in his direction.

"You're right. You're right!" And soon Ernesto was laughing. "I used to hate you. No wait...hate is a small word. I _despised_ you."

"You sure did!" Héctor chuckled. "I remember in school when I'd purposely ruin your games of baseball."

"Yes, but I fixed that real quick by hitting you with the baseball bat."

Héctor rubbed the back of his head, still knowing exactly the spot where the bat met his head. "Ouch, and it surely did hurt. You felt pretty good about it too, until Sister Maria Rosita came storming outside and dragged you inside by your ear."

"I swear, she nearly pulled my ear off that day!" Ernesto exclaimed, reaching for his ear to make sure that it still remained on his head. Héctor bursted out laughing (which caused a few heads to turn around to see where the laughter came from.) He eventually calmed himself down and reached for his shot glass and took a sip of the strong liquor.

"At least it's not like that time that she dragged you away by your suspenders," Ernesto remarked. And that did it for Héctor. He nearly choked on his drink—which caused him to spit it out of his mouth. He nearly fell out of his booth from laughing, liquor dripping down his chin. Ernesto laughed as hard as his friend did, clutching his belly—which began to cramp from laughing too much. Now almost all of the pairs of eyes in the bar were watching the two friends laughing their _culos_ off. Some people shouted at them to shut up, but the two of them were off in their own world. The drinks had definitely gotten to their heads, which made everything funnier to them.

Soon, they sat themselves up straight and wiped the brims of their eyes with their hands, which grew wet from tears of laughter.

"Ah, mi amigo. I don't know one person who can make me laugh as hard as you do," Ernesto sighed, letting out a small chuckle afterwards. "But I do believe that we should be going. We're starting to get a few dirty looks."

Héctor turned around and met eyes with a pair of irritated ones. "Ay, I think you're right, Ernesto. I'll go pay the bartender really quick. I'll be back."

Héctor stood up and brushed his clothes down to look a bit more presentable. He walked up to the bar counter and waited for the bartender to notice him.

"You were the guitarist in the plaza today, am I right?"

Héctor turned around and looked beside him until he found the man who spoke. He had neatly combed hair and a small mustache—which he could tell was currently being grown out. He was wearing some awfully nice clothes for a townsman of Santa Cecilia, especially in this area of the town.

"Si. My partner and I were out there earlier this afternoon," Héctor replied, curious as to what this man wanted.

"You were very good. The two of you worked well together, but I was more mesmerized by your guitar talents. You know exactly what you're doing on that stage with that guitar. I see great potential in you, young man."

Héctor was a little taken aback by this reply. It wasn't what he expected to come out of this man's mouth at all.

"G-gracias, Señor. That means a lot to hear that from you." Héctor was genuine with his answer. He really was grateful to hear these words, especially from a man who looked like he had connections.

"Sí, well I mean it. And I would like to hear you play some more. I was only passing by the plaza and I stopped for a few minutes to hear you play. I must say I enjoyed it very much."

"Gracias. I'm glad that you enjoyed listening to my music."

"I would like to hear more of your talent, young man. And then I would like to ask a favor of you," the man said. Now Héctor was very curious. What favor could this man possibly want from him? He was already honored enough that this man found potential in him. Could he possibly...get him some kind of gig? Héctor didn't want to get his hopes up, but this man did look like a pretty important guy.

"Of course," Héctor responded. "I'm playing in the plaza again tomorrow around the same time as today, if you'd like to come watch us again."

"I'll see if I have time to do that."

"We often play in the plaza if nothing is going on. So if you can't come tomorrow, I assure you we'll be playing again sometime this week."

"Gracias. That's good to know." The man took a sip from his drink. "Remind me of your name again, young man?"

"Oh, uhh..." Héctor held out his hand. "Héctor Rivera."

The man smiled and took Héctor's hand, giving it a firm shake. "Santiago Gomez."

Soon the bartender got to Héctor and gave him the bill. Héctor payed it quickly and said 'audios' to Santiago before walking back to his booth to meet Ernesto.

"Ernesto, I've got some great news!" said Héctor, reaching Ernesto with a big smile.

"Well, spit it out!" Ernesto said impatiently. "I've been dying to know ever since I saw that man up at the counter start talking to you."

Héctor picked up his guitar case and notebook and as the two amigos made their way out of the bar, he told Ernesto everything. Ernesto seemed pretty intrigued by the words that Héctor spoke.

"This is good news!" Ernesto exclaimed as he threw his hands up. "Do you know what this could mean for us?"

"He did look like a pretty important guy..." Héctor mumbled, trying to think what Ernesto could possibly be thinking. Ernesto obviously thought that this man could get them places, but Héctor couldn't really see how.

"He's Santiago Gomez. _The_ Santiago Gomez!"

Héctor still looked clueless as he gave Ernesto a questioning look. Ernesto's jaw nearly dropped when he saw that Héctor didn't recognize the name.

"He's only one of the richest men in town!" Ernesto cried. "How could you not recognize his name?"

"Well, I mean, there are a few wealthy men in town that have been mentioned here and there...but come to think of it, that man did seem pretty familiar..." Héctor recalled.

"You shook his _hand_. That's a good sign, Ernesto. It's not everyday that wealthy man like Señor Gomez interact themselves among common folk like us."

"Sí..." Héctor slowly started to understand what Ernesto was saying. "Do you...do you really think he would...?"

"Well...he does have that big party coming up, and I have heard rumors that he's searching for good musicians," Ernesto replied, thinking deeply. "And he did compliment your guitar skills..."

"Aaaaannd," Héctor cut in. "He did say we sounded great together..."

Ernesto took in a deep breath as he slowly shook his head. "No, no. We shouldn't get our hopes up..."

But Ernesto looked over at Héctor and saw the big, convincing grin on his face. He finally gave in and waved his hand away.

"Oh, alright. We can be dreamers, can't we?"

Héctor felt overwhelmed with excitement and he let out a loud _grito_.

"Ay, Ernesto! We might be getting out of this place!" Héctor grinned from ear to ear.

"That we may!" Ernesto replied, smiling just as big.

And together, the two of them walked down the street, both letting out _gritos_ here and there, feeling very hopeful.

 **A/N:** **PLEASE READ** — **I know that you may feel like this is a basic HéctorxImelda story and it may seem like that at first, but I PROMISE you that this story will be different. It won't be a basic Héctor-loves-Imelda-but-she-turns-him-down-but-then-he-wins-her-over-and-they-fall-in-love-and-live-happily-ever-after story. NOOO, my story is going to be full of angst and drama and craziness and awesomeness, so please stick around! :D**

 **So, if you're enjoying my story, DON'T FORGET to leave me a review! And please let other Coco fans know about my story! It'd mean so much to me.**

 **Don't forget to review before you go ;)**


	5. Melody

**I apologize for taking forever to update! This chapter is really short but a new one will come soon, and it'll be really exciting, I promise you!**

 **Please don't forget to leave me a review! I feed off of reviews! They really encourage me.**

 **Chapter Cinco**

 _Melody_

Héctor sat down on the creaky bed, nearly sinking into the mattress as he put his weight on it. He dusted off the bedsheets and then picked up his guitar. He gently placed it in his lap and began to pluck the strings a little. He frowned a little when the middlemost strings were a little off.

He had a good ear for that. He could always tell when instruments were flat. It always annoyed him to hear an out-of-tuned guitar play because it just wasn't as beautiful as it could sound. Sometimes he found himself considering walking up to a guitarist (playing a flat guitar) and offering to tune it for him. Not that any guitarist couldn't tune their own guitar. They probably could. In fact, it'd probably tick them off if anybody asked to tune their guitar. One, they wouldn't want anybody else touching their instrument. And two, that'd mean that you assumed that they had very little music knowledge and didn't know how to tune their own guitar.

Héctor began twisting the tuning pegs as he plucked each guitar string individually. He listened intently, making sure that each string sounded right. Not too flat, but not too sharp. It had to be perfect, even when he was just playing for himself. It was a good habit, in a way. At least his guitar would almost always be in tune this way.

When Héctor was finished and when his guitar sounded just right, he began to strum a little melody. It was soft and sweet; it was something he had been playing since he could remember. It had a lullaby kind of tone, but he could never find the right words to put to this touching tune. So he just played it as a simple instrumental.

Héctor always found himself playing this song whenever he was in need of relieving stress and just to sooth and calm himself down. Something about this melody made him forget everything bad in the world as he focused on playing it beautifully.

The tone of the music bounced against the walls of the small room, surrounding him with the aesthetic music. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, almost meditating upon this sound. He plucked more intensely at the strings when he played a second round, but it wasn't too powerful. It was just enough to make the message of the song a little more urgent.

Soon, the tempo began to ritardando. The plucking and strumming began to stall in the air, the vibrations still holding out until the next chord. And then, Héctor paused, but just for a second. He then finished the song with one beautiful, final chord. He strummed it slowly, but not too quietly so that the music would last and echo in the air.

Sighing with contentment, Héctor put his guitar back in its case. It was at that moment that Ernesto walked in. He prayed that Ernesto didn't hear his little melody. Not that it was bad if he did, just...Héctor loved this little tune. It meant something to him, almost like he had a connection to it. And if Ernesto heard this song, he knew he'd instantly want to write a song out of it. And this melody, he felt, wasn't meant to be shared with the world.

"Hola," Ernesto greeted while plopping down onto the second bed in the small room. "Working on another song?"

Héctor held his breath. His heart began to beat faster. Surely Ernesto didn't hear his tune?

"Ah, no. Did you want me to write a new song?" Héctor asked cooly.

"Well, Héctor, mi amigo. We have Señor Santiago coming to watch us tomorrow."

" _Maybe_." Héctor corrected. "He's a busy man. He doesn't have all the time in the world to watch two simple musicians like us."

"But we're not two _simple_ musicians. Héctor, he complimented us; you! He is obviously interested in us," Ernesto exclaimed. He ran his hand through his slick combed back hair and took in a deep breath, closing his eyes tightly.

"Héctor, this means a lot to me, and I'm sure it means a lot to you too."

"Sí, I know." Héctor ran his hand over his dusty guitar case while lost in thought. What exactly would happen to their future if Señor Santiago came and watched them play? Would he help them get big, or would he set them up with a gig and then say "goodbye"?

"You want me to write a song?" Héctor asked Ernesto, looking up and making eye contact.

"I don't mean to put pressure on you, but...we play the same old songs. Don't you think it'd be nice to write a new song for a new opportunity?"

Héctor nodded slowly. "Sí, Ernesto. I get what you're saying. But I'm not sure if I can write a song between tonight and tomorrow morning."

"I can help!" Ernesto offered. "I know I'm no good at writing, but I can help you with ideas and maybe sing a few melodies."

"That's nice of you to offer, but I don't work that way. You know that." Héctor sighed, shaking his head.

"Then can't you just learn a song that's not an original?" by now, Ernesto was persistent. He wanted this. No, he _needed_ this. This meant so much to Ernesto, and he needed Héctor to understand just how much it meant.

"Where am I going to learn this song?" Héctor was trying to contain his temper, but Ernesto kept urging him to learn a new song. It put a lot of pressure on him, which usually made him moody and irritated. He clenched his fists—to keep an outburst in—until his knuckles turned white. He finally let out a breath and released his grip on his hands.

"Ernesto," he spoke softly. "This is stressing me out. I'm sure that Señor Santiago won't mind hearing the same songs as yesterday again. He only listened for a minute anyways."

Ernesto understood, and his face showed it. He knew that maybe he was pushing Héctor a little too hard.

"But." Héctor looked up, a little light shining in his eyes. "If he does hire us or set us up with something, I promise you that I'll write a brand new song. And it'll be quite the song!"

Ernesto smiled and nodded. "Alright." He stood up from the bed. "But you better play _extra_ well tomorrow so you can write that excellent song."

Héctor stood up to meet Ernesto. "That is a promise that I can make."

The two of them clasped hands firmly. Héctor smiled smugly and patted Ernesto's back.

"Well," Ernesto sighed. "I'm going for a walk. Would you like to join me?"

"No, gracias. I'll stay in here and practice a little more."

Ernesto nodded and he quietly left the room. The moment he closed the door behind him, Héctor grabbed out his guitar again. He gave a little smirk and once again began to strum it, the touch and tune so familiar to him.

 **I'm sorry that this chapter was a little BLEH. It was a little irrelevant, but I needed to post SOMETHING, so here it is. But I'm coming out with a new and great chapter soon! Just you wait!**

 **Please don't forget to leave me a review! It really encourages me!**


	6. Needles and Heart

**A/N: Hello guys!**

 **This chapter is finally up and it is super long, so I really hope that you enjoy it!**

 **When you're done, don't forget to leave me a review! They REALLY encourage me**?

 **Read, Review, and Enjoy!**

 **Chapter 6**

 _Needles and Heart_

It was late in the evening, probably about 8:00. Imelda was cleaning up the kitchen, feeling exhausted from her day. Not only did she have to do her daily chores, but she had to take on her Mamá's work since she had been feeling sick all that day. But her mamá still insisted that she cooked dinner that night—which Imelda didn't try to argue with. She was, in fact, relieved that her mamá took that off her hands.

Now Imelda was finishing up washing dishes from their earlier supper while her brothers were off in their rooms doing God-knows-what. But they were quiet (for once) which caused Imelda to enjoy the peace and quiet that hung in the air.

Imelda stood at the sink, humming a little tune while thoughtfully drying a bowl. She was so into the little melody that produced out of her mouth, she hardly heard the knocking on the door. That awoke her from her daze. Placing the bowl down on the counter, Imelda trotted over to the front door, wondering who could be here at this time of night. She opened the door slightly and peeked through the small crack. What she saw—who she saw—became quite a surprise to her.

" _Tío_ Santiago," Imelda spoke, trying not to exclaim her words (in fear of waking her ill mother up.) "What are you doing here at this time of night?"

"You mean what are we doing here." Her uncle stepped to the side to reveal a woman. In the crook of her arm were fabrics of all kinds and she held the handle of a box in her hand. Imelda quickly recognized her as a seamstress. Her uncle's personal seamstress.

"You know my grand fiesta is next weekend, _mi sobrina_ ," Santiago said. "And you need a dress."

Imelda sighed, rolling her eyes slightly. " _Tio_ , I've told you before that I have many dresses in my closet..." Imelda stopped talking the moment her uncle raised his eyebrows. She nodded and said, "Well, come on in." She stepped back and allowed Santiago and the seamstress to pass through. After she closed the door behind them, she lead them to the _sala de estar_. She held her hand out towards the sofas as an indication to sit down. They did so, the seamstress and Santiago sitting together. Imelda sat in a chair across from them. She patted and wrinkled out her skirt to look more presentable and clasped her hands in her lap.

"Now Imelda," her uncle said. "I don't want you wearing one of your Sunday-best dresses to my party. This is a _fiesta grande!_ You must wear a beautiful dress with ribbons and colors and sashes and pearls, oh, and—"

"¡Tío Santiago!" Imelda impatiently cut him off. She took in a deep breath before continuing in a calmer voice. "I already have a dress. From last year. I've only wore it once and it's almost brand new. Why can't I just wear that one?"

" _Mi querido,_ my guests have already seen that dress on you once, I don't think they'd want to see it on you again."

Imelda opened her mouth to speak against this, feeling slightly offended. But Santiago continued on.

"And in my opinion, I didn't think that dress looked too wonderful on you. It didn't fit well with your shape. It was…odd fitting. That seamstress didn't make that dress well at all. So that's why I fired her."

Imelda met out a little gasp of disbelief. "You didn't need to do that. I liked the dress, and you and Mamá told her how to make my dress and what you wanted it to look like."

"Well, she didn't do it the way I wanted it to look. The color was all wrong too."

"Mamá suggested the color and you agreed on it, commenting on how it looked well with my skin tone." Imelda felt a little fired up.

"I only said that because I didn't want to disagree with your mamá and have her fight me about it."

"Well you're so strong and you always speak your mind, so why didn't you? You always fight with Mamá about other things."

"We had a seamstress in the room. I didn't want to be rude and argue in front of her."

"You're doing it right now."

"Doing what?"

"Arguing with me," Imelda sniffed while raising her nose in the air.

"You know, you're so much like your mother."

"I take that as a compliment."

All the while the uncle and niece were arguing, the seamstress looked awkwardly between the two when they went back and forth with their irritated words. She was getting tired of it and finally decided to butt in.

"So you want a nice fitting dress with a complimentary color for señorita Imelda?" The seamstress spoke up. Immediately, Imelda's and Santiago's eyes turned to her.

"Oh, Margarita, lo siento. We just got carried, as we always do." Santiago bowed his head.

Imelda also smiled apologetically, feeling absolutely horrid about arguing in front of Margarita. She was a lady; she shouldn't have been doing that. If her mamá had heard her, she would have been furious.

"Sí, Margarita. That's exactly what we want," Santiago replied with a delicate smile. "Some thing so beautiful that even our Imelda can't complain. She must be the most beautiful girl at the whole fiesta. This will be her time to shine!"

Margarita smiled while stroking the fabrics that she held in her arms. She looked back and forth between Imelda and her fabrics, wondering which ones would best be good on her.

"You know the whole reason I need Imelda to be the most beautiful is so that she can find a suitable husband," Santiago explained to Margarita, not caring if Imelda heard or not. Because it was the truth and she knew that her uncle was trying to marry her off.

"There will be plenty young suitors for our dear Imelda. And I need all of them to fall for her so that she has many men to choose from." Santiago then chuckled. "Imelda will be so beautiful, I'm sure that even taken men will be dying to ask for her hand."

Margarita giggled along with Santiago while Imelda rolled her eyes in annoyance. She didn't want to court any man in this town. She didn't want to get married. She still had a life to live and giving herself to a man would end it all.

"Ay, I see." Margarita gave a little smirk, her eyes upon Imelda. "You will be the lady of the hour."

"More like of the night," Imelda mumbled. She sat up straighter and let out a sigh. "Tío, you better be honest with this seamstress about this dress, unlike last time apparently."

"Of course, _mi sobrina_. We will make you the most beautiful girl at the whole fiesta. In the whole town! You will see," Santiago grinned widely, imagining it all.

"Okay, Señorita. Can I take your measurements?" Margarita asked while standing up from her seat. Imelda stood up and walked towards the seamstress. Margarita opened up her sewing box and grabbed a measuring tape.

"Lift your arms up please." Imelda did as she was instructed as the seamstress measured her waist. She felt a little embarrassed when she measured her bust in front of her uncle, but she was glad to notice that he was pacing around the room, looking at pictures of their family.

"It's a shame that your father isn't here to see the beautiful young woman you've grown up to be," her uncle blurted out. Those words came as a surprise to Imelda. Why did her uncle always bring up such sensitive topics?

"Yes, it is a shame," Imelda spoke softly, casting her eyes upon the ground.

"Chin up, señorita," Margarita instructed. Imelda looked up, though her eyes still focused on her feet while Margarita measured the width of her neck.

"Yes, well it was his own fault. Maybe your father would still be here if he hadn't gone off and—"

"Stop it!" Imelda exclaimed, covering her hands with her eyes. She felt tears burning in the back of her eyes, but she still dared to look up at her uncle with a hard glare. "I don't know what makes you think that you can bring him up, but it doesn't make things any better."

"But it does, Imelda. You need to learn how to toughen up, my _querido_."

Her uncle walked over to her and cupped her face in his hand while the seamstress measured her arms, so there was no way for Imelda to push him away.

"You are a grown lady now. You can't be seen crying about something that happened years ago. Men won't find that appealing," her uncle spoke.

Imelda found that her arms were now free. "I don't care if I'm attractive to men or not. My heart still hurts from what happened, and nothing can stop that." She pushed her uncle away.

"Of course not, Imelda. Of course not," his voice spoke softer. "Nothing can stop you from hurting on the inside, but you must be strong on the outside. For your mamá, for your husband. For him."

Imelda looked away, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from crying. She remembered when she was growing up and her father was gone. So her uncle—her mother's brother—stepped in to help out. Her mamá was always too weak from heartbreak to teach young Imelda things, so she either had to learn on her own or her uncle would help her out. And when it came to emotional things, Imelda never went to her mamá for advice or help. She always went to her uncle, who taught her how to toughen up and to keep her emotions inside of her. She couldn't let them show or that would be considered unattractive. Imelda recalled being teased about that. Many of the boys at her school would call her "cold-hearted" and "stuck-up." Imelda would go home every day and at the end of the day, she'd cry at night in her room when she was alone. That was the only place should could let her emotions show. And her stained pillow of tears proved that.

"Sí, Tío Santiago," Imelda said in a hushed voice, nearly a whisper.

"Good girl." He gently patted her cheek and then looked over at Margarita to see if she was done.

"Alright, we are all finished here," she said with a big smile. "Thank you for your time, señorita. I'm sorry for coming this late at night."

"It's alright." Imelda gave her a small smile. "Are you sure you're finished? Did you pick out a color? And a design?"

"Oh, I do that all on my own time, don't fret _mi querido_. You're going to look beautiful!"

Imelda nodded. "Gracias, Señora. I'm looking forward to what masterpiece you will create."

"Oh, me too," Margarita giggled. Imelda giggled back and turned around when she heard her uncle clear his throat.

"I'm going tomorrow to see a musician. I'm going to watch him and decide if I want him to play at the party. Would you like to come with me?"

"Oh, thanks for asking, but I'm afraid I can't," Imelda replied. "I have too much responsibility here at home, especially with my mother feeling ill."

"Alright." Santiago nodded. "Well, we'll see you real soon."

As Imelda led them to the door, her uncle kissed her cheek in parting and said, "Hasta la vista."

"Hasta la vista," Imelda responded. Then she closed the door.

###

"Are you ready, mi amigo?" Ernesto asked. He watched as Héctor quickly tuned his guitar once more, just in case it may have fallen flat since the last minute when he tuned it. What could he say? It was one of his nervous habits.

"I think so," Héctor replied. "I just hope I don't forget a lyric or a chord or something."

"We do this all the time. I don't think you will," Ernesto tried to assure him.

"I know, but Señor Santiago is coming to watch us today, so I'm bound to be nervous."

"Might. He _might_ come today," Ernesto corrected. "We don't know that for sure."

Héctor looked a little doubtful as he ran his hands over his guitar strings. Ernesto sighed. "Come on, let's go play and have some fun."

He reached out his hand toward Héctor to help pull him to his feet. Héctor reluctantly took his hand and was pulled up to a standing position. He felt a little wobbly, probably just from nerves. He looked at Ernesto with a small smile. He was nervous. Definitely nervous.

"Ay, relax!" Ernesto exclaimed. "We're going to be fine. We'll do great. _You'll_ do great."

"Okay, okay. I guess. Let's just get it over with," Héctor muttered. Ernesto walked up onto the small stage with Héctor trailing behind him. He held his guitar in a firm grip and breathed in deeply. Then, he let out a loud _grito_. Ernesto did the same. That caught the attention of nearby people passing. Some of them knew what was going on and, because they loved Ernesto's and Héctor's music so much, sat down on some benches in the plaza. Their faces lit up as Héctor began his beautiful guitar playing. They recognized the tune easily. They always opened up with this song, and it was a good song to open up with.

The intro of the song was coming to an end, and Ernesto knew he had to start. He took in a deep breath, and with a gorgeous voice, sung out:

 _"Señoras y señores_

 _Buenas tardes, buenas noches_

 _Buenas tardes, buenas noches_

 _Señoritas y señores"_

The people clapped and cheered. Some even began to sing along to the catchy tune. This was always Héctor's favorite part because he knew he was doing something right. He was playing for the people. Not for himself, but for his audience. And that's all that he wanted to do. He wanted to play for the world. Not for his sake, but for their sake. He wanted to see them smile—to see them so happy. He wanted his music to lift hearts and to make the people feel the emotion that he was playing so that they too could relate. He didn't want money, nor fame. He just wanted this.

Héctor smiled brightly and Ernesto sang on.

 _"To be here with you tonight_

 _Brings me joy, que alegria_

 _For this music is my language_

 _And the world es mi familia_

 _For this music is my language_

 _And the world es mi familia..."_

The song was coming to an end, and Héctor got ready to jump in and sing along with Ernesto. Together, they sang,

 _"For this music is my language_

 _And the world es mi familia!"_

Héctor ended the song with a long and upbeat strum that left the people cheering and clapping. Ernesto and Héctor gave small bows, showing their appreciation to the audience.

And then Héctor's heart nearly dropped to the bottom of his stomach.

There, among the people in the plaza, sat Santiago.

"Ernesto," Héctor whispered casually to him. "I've spotted Señor Santiago."

"Oh, sí, sí. He's been there from the moment you began the song. He looked very entertained, mi amigo."

"Ay, ay, ay, I didn't even notice," Héctor replied. But he let a smile grow on his lips. Santiago had seen how the crowd reacted. He must've known by now that they were talented musicians and that the people of the town loved them.

"What song should we play next?" Ernesto whispered to him as the crowd's cheering died down.

"Um...let's do _La Adelita_. Everyone loves that one. It's a classic," Héctor replied. Ernesto gave a nod and waited for Héctor to begin the song with his guitar. And once he did, Ernesto began singing the traditional folk song.

 _"En lo alto de la abrupta serranía_

 _Acampado se encontraba un regimiento_

 _Y una moza que valiente los seguía_

 _Locamente enamorada del sargento."_

Many of the people began to dance around to the fun melody. Héctor was surprised to see Santiago dancing among the many people. He let out a small chuckle and played more fervently

 _"Popular entre la tropa era Adelita_

 _La mujer que el sargento idolatraba_

 _Y además de ser valiente era bonita_

 _Que hasta el mismo Coronel la respetaba._

 _"Y se oía, que decía, aquel que tanto la quería:_

 _"Y si Adelita quisiera ser mi novia_

 _Y si Adelita fuera mi mujer_

 _Le compraría un vestido de seda_

 _Para llevarla a bailar al cuartel._

 _"Y si Adelita se fuera con otro_

 _La seguiría por tierra y por mar_

 _Si por mar en un buque de guerra_

 _Si por tierra en un tren militar!"_

When the song was finished, the people cheered once again. Though there weren't many people in the first place, it still was a lively audience and more people gathered into the plaza when they heard the music and when they realized an important man was among the plaza, clearly interested in the two musicians.

Once again, Héctor and Ernesto bowed after their performance. They noticed Santiago clapping wildly among the people. Héctor smiled brightly, knowing for sure that Santiago enjoyed their music very much. He most certainly wasn't disappointed.

After a few more songs, Ernesto announced to the small crowd that they were done for the afternoon and that they were very grateful for a wonderful audience. Slowly, the people made their way out of the plaza, continuing on with their lives.

Héctor put his guitar in its case once the audience began to leave. He kissed the neck of his guitar while he gently placed it in the worn-out case. He felt his stomach churn as he picked up his case, because he realized that Santiago was still in the plaza, waiting to speak to him and Ernesto.

The two of them gradually made their way down the stairs of the stage and walked towards Santiago. Nervous smiles were plastered on their faces as they approached him.

"Hola, Señor Santiago," Ernesto spoke first. "¿Cómo está usted?"

"Bien, bien," Santiago replied. "You did very well out there. I was thoroughly entertained."

"Gracias, Señor," Héctor said, dipping his head. "I'm glad that you enjoyed it."

"I did very much enjoy it, yes," Santiago spoke. "And because I was thrilled by your talent, I wanted to ask you a question."

Héctor held his breath, knowing—hoping—exactly what Santiago was going to say would be good news.

"I've been looking for good musicians to play at my fiesta this Friday. And after looking for a while, I think I've found the right ones," he said. "Would you two play at my fiesta for me?"

Héctor wanted to let out a yell of excitement. He looked over at Ernesto and knew that he wanted to too. But he instead grinned widely.

"Oh, sí, sí! Gracias, Señor. We'll be honored," Héctor accepted right away.

" _I'll_ be honored." Santiago smiled formally, and then reached his hand into his pocket, pulling out a piece of paper. "Here is the time and address for the fiesta. I expect to see you arrive a few minutes early to set up."

"Of course, Señor," Ernesto said, carefully taking the paper from his hands.

"Well," Santiago sniffed. "I must be going. I will see you two on Friday."

The man held out his hand and Ernesto took it, shaking it firmly. Héctor also shook his hand, a little less firmly. Though he was trying to control it on the outside, he was bursting with excitement on the inside.

"Well then, adiós," Santiago spoke. He waved at them and turned around to walk away. Ernesto and Héctor replied, "adiós," and then when he was out of sight, they went crazy with excitement.

"We got the gig!" Ernesto exclaimed. "This is big news, mi amigo!"

"Sí," Héctor replied. "Just imagine the beautiful ladies we will see at the fiesta."

Ernesto laughed heartily. "That we will, Héctor."

"Do you know what this calls for?" A smug smile grew on Héctor's lips. Ernesto smirked back at his best friend and at the same time, they answered Héctor's question:

"Drinks."

 **A/N: Hello my peoples!**

 **I hope that you enjoyed this chapter. It was a long chapter, made up for the late and short previous chapter.**

 **Things are finally starting to heat up!**

 **Review and tell me your favorite parts so far! Or if you have friendly criticism, go ahead and review that! Also, review what you'd like to see from this story.**

 **Thank you, and I'll see you guys in a bit!**

 **Don't forget to review!**?

 **Also, if you were interested, the translation to "La Adelita" is:**

 **In the height of the steep mountain**

 **Could be found a camping regiment**

 **And a brave girl who was following them,**

 **Madly in love with the sergeant.**

 **Adelita was popular among the troop,**

 **The woman that the sergeant idolized,**

 **And besides being brave, she was pretty**

 **And even the colonel respected her.**

 **And it was heard that the one who loved her so would say:**

 **And if Adelita wanted to be my fiancée,**

 **And if Adelita were my wife,**

 **I'd buy her a silk dress**

 **To take her to the barracks dance.**

 **And if Adelita would leave with another man**

 **I'd follow her by land and by sea,**

 **If by sea on a war ship**

 **If by land on a military train.**


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